The Long Way Home
by Marie Day
Summary: A snow storm and a car-jacking make for a difficult night for everyone involved.


1  
  
He had just put his head down on his desk, pillowed by his arm, and closed his eyes. Relaxed, for just a moment. So, of course, that was when someone walked into his office. It was inevitable. He heard the footsteps come to the door and stop. He heard the sigh.  
  
"I swear, I just put my head down. Just now," Josh said without looking up.  
  
"Come on," Toby said. "I'm taking you home."  
  
And, of course, it had to be Toby Ziegler. Anyone else would have been compassionate. Considerate. Quiet, and let him rest.  
  
"Toby," he said lifting his head.  
  
"Get up, get your coat and let's go. The weather is not getting any better."  
  
Joshua Lyman glanced at the window. The snow was falling harder, and a sharp wind shook the pane of glass. He couldn't see beyond the flakes. The world was bathed in white. It was pretty, pristine and cold. He could have sat there and watched for a long time, enjoying the world even in winter.  
  
"Didn't Sam say it wasn't going to snow today?" Josh asked.  
  
"You don't really listen to his weather reports, and believe them, do you?" Toby asked. "You'd get better reports from a hermit living in the Mojave Desert. To say that Sam Seaborn is out of touch with the elements is a pale description of his inability to predict weather. I've begun to wonder if he really lives on this world."  
  
Josh grinned and agreed. "I like to watch the snow."  
  
"Good. You'll see plenty of it in the car while I drive you home. And if you do not get up right now, I'm going to call a couple nice big Secret Service Agents down from the Residence and have them carry you out."  
  
"I have managed to get home on my own before now."  
  
"Don't argue with me," Toby said. He took a step into the room, got Josh's coat from the hook, and stood there waiting. "The weather's bad. You can't drive because you're still on medication. There's no telling how long it could take for a cab to get here, since everyone in the beltway is trying to get home. I happen to be leaving, and I'm taking you with me. It's either that, or I'll make sure you're sleeping in the Residence tonight."  
  
"Okay. Well. Good point about the cab." He stood. Slowly. He ached, and Toby knew it, but the man just held out his coat and said nothing at all. Josh took it. "I can do the work."  
  
"Did I say you couldn't do the work?"  
  
"You don't have to. You just don't give me any," he said, and began fighting his way into the coat. Toby helped, which was disconcerting again. "I did a few reports today. But you took Sam to the meetings."  
  
"Yes, I did. You're right." They started out of the office, Toby one-step ahead, and then slowing down to let Josh walk beside him. "Are you ready to go toe-to-toe with the other side again? I can't take you in if you're not up to it. I need someone who's going to stick to the fight all the way."  
  
"Have I ever backed down before?"  
  
"Not before, no."  
  
"I'm not any different. If anything, I've found my ... my level of commitment has grown, Toby. I found out that I really want to make a difference in the world."  
  
"You think you haven't? You got Bartlet elected as president."  
  
"I didn't do it alone."  
  
"No one does anything alone. But -- if you hadn't gone with Bartlet, Hoines would be president today. Do you think we don't know that?"  
  
Joshua stopped. Toby had gone two steps beyond before he looked back as well, and gave Joshua a look of tried patience. "Do you think, maybe, we could discuss this in the car before we're both snowed in here?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Josh said, and walked with him, silent the rest of the way.   
  
  
  
Toby didn't look relieved until they were out on the road, which was madness because the roads were icy and the drivers insane. Josh checked his seat belt just to make sure it was tight. Then he leaned back and relaxed again. The car was more comfortable than his desk.  
  
"I know a deli not far from here. You want to grab a bite to eat?"  
  
Josh lifted his had again, frowning. "You do not have to --"  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good. You'll like the food."  
  
"Toby --"  
  
"You didn't finish your lunch today. Donna is worried. Do you know what we have been going through with Donna worried about you? If I can go in tomorrow and say you had dinner with me, life will be much better for the rest of us."  
  
"I --"  
  
"Stop arguing. We're going to Myerson's and grabbing a little deli. We'll eat it on the way home. You'll make Donna happy."  
  
"I'll talk to her tomorrow."  
  
"You do and she'll be unhappy. I don't want her unhappy. I want her happy -- and that's why you are going to eat something on the way home, and you will not scold Donna. Is there some reason you think you can argue with me about this?"  
  
Joshua grinned and finally gave in. "Okay. Stop by Myerson's. I'll eat something."  
  
"Good. This won't take long."  
  
"That's good, because all in all, I'd rather be snowed in at the Residence than at a Deli."  
  
"You've never eaten at Myerson's."  
  
That made him laugh, which made him cough a little, but he lifted a hand when Toby started to say something. "Don't. I'm fine. I want to laugh again, Toby. I don't want to be different. And if people can't start treating me like they used to, I'm going to turn in my resignation."  
  
Toby hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. His face was red, and he held on to the steering wheel with two hands for a long silent moment before he finally turned to Joshua Lyman.  
  
"If you ever say you are going to resign again, I'm going to take you out behind the White House and have Gina beat you the hell out of you. And she can do it, too."  
  
"I don't doubt it. But that doesn't change --"  
  
"If you leave, they won, Josh. We don't want them to win. "  
  
"If you don't let me do my job, they won anyway," he replied. Words and anger that he'd held in check surfaced. He tried to fight them back, but the thoughts still slipped out. "I can't just sit in my office and watch it snow any more, Toby. That's not why I worked so damn hard to get Bartlet to the White House. That's not why I've insulted and an -- annoyed half the GOP." He stopped and took a quick breath, and glanced back with a start with a police car pulled up in back of them, lights flashing. "I think this is a no parking zone."  
  
"So I'll pay a ticket." He took several deep breaths before he continued. "We need to talk --"  
  
Someone knocked on the window. Toby mumbled something, and put the window down while he tried to get to his wallet. "Good evening officer. Sorry --"  
  
"Mr. Ziegler," the man said. He looked across to the passenger side. "And Mr. Lyman. Is there any problem?"  
  
"No officer we were just --" Toby began.  
  
"Discussing policy," Joshua finished.  
  
"Oh. Well. I just wanted to make certain there was no problem. We've had a lot of cars off the road tonight. Is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
"Are you willing to beat some sense into Mr. Lyman for me?" Toby asked, and sounded quite serious.  
  
"Ah --"  
  
"Toby, at least take me to the damn meetings with you and Sam."  
  
"Deal," Toby said. He smiled and then looked at the officer. "I guess I won't need your help after all."  
  
The man grinned. "Good. You two should get home. We're expecting over a six inches more snow by midnight and sub zero temperatures by dawn. Get home where it's safe and warm."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You'll want to avoid downtown. I suggest you circle north. We've had five accidents already, and at least one semi is blocking the freeway. The roads are still passable, but won't be for long. Don't take too much time."  
  
"We won't. Just making a quick stop at Myerson's, first."  
  
"His bagels were excellent today," the officer said, and turned away.   
  
"See?" Toby said as the window rolled back up. "You're going to like it. And we'll drive out around Pine Park and head back to your place."  
  
By then Joshua knew there was no use arguing with him. Besides, it was the closest Toby Ziegler had come to treating him normally again. It felt good to have the man threaten him.  
  
  
  
2  
  
He wished Abby was home tonight, or Zoey was in the Residence, rather than snowed in at college. He wanted his family here on a nice, quiet snowy night. They could sit by the fire and roast marshmallows, or read stories to each other. There were a lot of things he would have liked.  
  
Charlie was still here, and wasn't going to leave tonight from the looks of things. Jed Bartlet thought he ought to encourage his aid to head out before the weather turned any worse, but he felt a perverse need to have someone familiar around.  
  
Even Charlie, who was -- less open and friendly since the shooting. He wanted to discuss that with the young man again. But not tonight.  
  
"Will there be anything else, sir?" Charlie asked.  
  
"Think you can round up some hot cocoa, maybe some chocolate chip cookies?" he asked.  
  
There was, for a moment, a hint of a smile. "Yes sir, I think I can find something like that."  
  
"Good. Bring enough for both of us." He saw Charlie's frown. "It's a cold, winter night. The rest of the world seems strangely at peace tonight, Charlie. I would like to have a quiet evening sitting down with cocoa and cookies, and with someone who isn't going to ask me about the Mid-east peace process or the cost of fuel. Do you think we could manage that?"  
  
"Yes sir. Yes, I think so."  
  
Charlie left the room. He could have called for the cocoa and cookies from here, but Jed didn't stop him from leaving. Bartlet went to the window and looked out at the growing storm, watching snow coat the world in pristine white. He could believe in hope and a new beginning looking at that snow. He could believe that the world would have at least one hour of peace.  
  
And he could also believe that the weather was trapping him here, closing any hope of escape. And if he was trapped, then nothing that happened out there could be his fault.  
  
He and Charlie discussed the upcoming Bowl games. It helped them both.  
  
  
  
3  
  
The food was good. Joshua ate half a sandwich and wrapped the rest back up for later. He wasn't sure there was any food at home -- but he didn't tell Toby that.  
  
"Half a sandwich isn't --"  
  
"I'll eat the rest later. Really. I just can't eat that much all at once yet. The coffee is good," he said, and sipped from the cup.  
  
"It is good."  
  
"Thanks," Josh said.  
  
"I owed you. Because I did take Sam to the meetings when I should have taken you. Because I knew it, and did it anyway."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know," he said and turned the car onto a long stretch of dark road, sided by a ravine to the right and a steep embankment to the left. There were no lights, and the road was starting to drift over in places. "I did it because I felt guilty."  
  
"Guilty?"  
  
"Because you were shot."  
  
It was dark in the car. He could barely see Toby's face; the grim set of his mouth, the way his eyes stared ahead as though he was afraid to look at Josh.  
  
"Why in the world would you feel guilty about that?"  
  
"I urged the president to sign --"  
  
"The tent memo? You think that makes you responsible for fanatics? There are a few people I blame for being shot. Two of them are already dead. One is in prison. As I recall, faintly, you found me. I think you saved my life."  
  
"I didn't," Toby said.   
  
"Don't argue with me." Toby glanced his way. He still looked grim. "Toby, we have enemies out there. We have people enough to spread the blame to. We don't need to take it on ourselves. You're going to start letting me go to the meetings with you and Sam. I'm going to work my way back up to being physically able to handle the workload. Let's not make it worse."  
  
"You scared the hell out of us, Josh," he said, and slowly took a curve. The car bucked as they went through higher snowdrifts. "We sat there all that night, waiting for word. The President made them let him go and see you when he was barely out of surgery. You were still in the operating room. Donna -- I had to tell Donna. I don't ever want to go through that again."  
  
"I'm sorry," Josh said softly.  
  
"And so am I. For all my own reasons. And that's the last we need to talk about it. Tomorrow you'll be going to the 9AM meeting with Sam and me."  
  
"What's it on?"  
  
Toby grinned. "Import/Export quotas on untreated corn meal."  
  
"Maybe I'm not ready for this just yet after all."  
  
Toby laughed. Then he gunned the engine and drove them through a higher drift, and turned through another curve. There were pines on the side of the ravine, draped in white and majestic. Josh had always liked to see the snow when he was a kid. It was time to feel the joy at simple things again.  
  
"This is going to sound stupid, but do you know what I really really love about this time of year?" Joshua said.  
  
"The Christmas lights."  
  
"Yeah," Joshua said. He looked at Toby, startled. "How did you know?"  
  
"A lucky guess. What else is there to like about this time of year?"  
  
"I know it's silly. I'm Jewish. But the lights -- they're --"  
  
"They're bright. They're colorful. They turn the drab, cold winter city into a world of magic."  
  
"Yeah. Exactly. I didn't know you --"  
  
"If you say anything to anyone, you'll be handling the delegation on importing haggis all by yourself."  
  
He laughed again, and sipped at the coffee. When Toby hit the breaks again, he looked up and saw the car sideways in the road, blocking the way. His heart did a flip, but they slowed and stopped in plenty of time.  
  
"Well this is helpful," Toby said.   
  
"Where do you think they went?" Josh asked.  
  
"Didn't see anyone on the road. They might have headed the other way. Wait here. I'll see --"  
  
"We might have to push it out of the way."  
  
"No. Not you. I'll check to make sure the car is empty, then we turn around and head back. We'll find some place to stay if we can't make it back to my place."  
  
"Okay," he agreed and opened his door. "I'm just going to take a look with you."  
  
Toby nodded agreement and got out. The car looked dark and empty to Josh. Not very old, but battered. He pulled the collar of his coat up higher against the snow and wind, and the scarf around his mouth. Toby was doing the same. A quick look and then back to the car. It was a cold night. He liked snow better when he was sitting inside somewhere, looking out at it.  
  
"No one," Toby said, leaning down at the window. "Let's hope I can get the car turned --"  
  
Movement, the steady crunch of feet in snow -- very close. He hadn't heard because of the wind --  
  
"Hey," Toby said. Josh was turning more slowly, not as steady in the snow. "Is this your car? Can we -- no! Don't hit him!"  
  
Joshua spun, but Toby had already shoved him aside. He only saw shadowed movement and someone holding a stout branch as it swung, catching Toby across the shoulder and knocking him down. Josh shouted and scrambled forward --  
  
More than one person. Something hit him across the back of the head. He fell, his head hitting Toby's chest. Toby's heartbeat at his ear, and the sound of garbled voices. Something hit him again, and Toby as well, he thought.  
  
Then he was moving. His head bumped against the ground. Blurry snowflakes were falling onto his face. He could see someone, but he couldn't focus on what was happening.  
  
"You want to go find some place open where we can buy bullets and come back to shoot them, then you do it," someone said. "I just want out of here."  
  
"If you hadn't used all the bullets at the robbery --"  
  
Josh hit his head a little harder on something. Maybe the curb of the road, because there was frozen grass and twigs beneath him a moment later. He was more cognizant again when hands were rummaging through his coat and pockets. He tried to push them away, but a hand slapped at his and then held him still.  
  
"Oh shit," someone said. "Shove them over the edge. Now."  
  
"What?" The hands stopped moving.  
  
"They work for Bartlet. We don't want to mess with anyone who works for Bartlet. Do you know what happens to people who mess with the President?"  
  
The Christian Right makes them saints, Josh thought.  
  
"Hell. I want the coat. That's a good coat --"  
  
"It has his blood on it. They can trace you through stuff like that. We have the cell phones, we have the money and credit cards. Ditch the wallets and IDs. We can get rid of the phones right away. Let's go! I want to get this car out of here, and get rid of it before someone comes looking!"  
  
"Okay. You drive our car. I'll take theirs. I got gloves, at least."  
  
"No --" Josh began. He wanted to protest. It was cold out here. "Toby --"  
  
But someone had grabbed him by the leg, and another by the arms. His head snapped back, and he saw, briefly, a face covered by a scarf. The glove on the hand holding his right arm had pulled down, and he could see an odd little tattoo of a bug.   
  
Then they lifted him. It hurt like hell through his chest, but they didn't hold on for long.  
  
He was flying...   
  
  
  
"Wake up Joshua. Come on. Wake up."  
  
He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to be back in the hospital and go through that hell again. He couldn't do it a second time.  
  
"Josh. I need you to wake up. I need your help."  
  
Toby. Toby needed his help?  
  
Joshua Lyman opened his eyes. Toby Ziegler was leaning over him, a shield against the falling snow that had covered Toby's head and fell in flakes around him. It took a moment before Josh realized he was cold. And that they weren't in the hospital. And that this was not where he wanted to be anyway.  
  
"Oh hell," Josh said.  
  
"Dante's vision of it, at least," Toby said. He brushed snow from Josh's face. "You all right?"  
  
"Yeah. Okay." He started to sit up and changed his mind. "I hurt like hell."  
  
Toby bit at his lower lip. He looked worried. The wind kicked up, and blew cold snow in his face, and Josh shivered -- and then found that he couldn't stop. Shock? Reaction? Or just cold?  
  
"Hey," Toby said.   
  
"Where are we?" Josh asked. He turned his head a little. It was white and dark. "What happened?"  
  
"They threw us down the ravine. Can you move?"  
  
"I --" He started to sit up and went back down. "My head is pounding."  
  
"You get hit?" Toby asked. His fingers were moving beneath Josh's head.   
  
"Yeah. Careful. More than once, I think."  
  
"Damn. " He pulled back his fingers and held them up. They were stained at the fingertips. Blood. "Come on. Sit up. Let me look."  
  
It took Toby's strength to get him up and leaning forward, but then he had trouble breathing and couldn't stay that way for long. Toby was finally able to move behind him, and support his shoulders. It was better. Sitting up finally made him think about the trouble they were in. He could see it clearly.  
  
"How do we get out of here?"  
  
"Climb," Toby said. "You're going to have to climb out."  
  
"Me? Why me?"  
  
"Because I twisted my leg when I landed in this lovely white wonderland. I don't know if it's broken or just sprained, but I can't walk."  
  
"Oh hell, oh hell." Panic surged through him. It helped. "Come on. I'll help you walk."  
  
"You can't, Josh. Just leave me here --"  
  
"I am not going on without you. It's going to snow half a foot. It's going to drop well below zero. I'm not leaving you here in this." He had, in fact managed to get to his feet, and grabbed hold of Toby's arm. Toby tried to pull away. Josh held on. "Don't argue, Toby. I'm not walking away without you."  
  
"Go climb the damn ravine and find help!"  
  
Joshua stopped and considered it. That might really be a good idea, so he let go of Toby, and stumbled toward the side of the ravine. The trouble was there was nowhere to climb up the steep, narrow sides. He tried three times, and slid back down, cutting his hands and landing badly the last time.  
  
"Well, this is just great," Toby said. He was leaning back on his elbows, covered now in even more snow.  
  
"I can't, Toby. I'm sorry. I just --"  
  
"Hey. It's all right. All you have to do is chose a direction and walk that way until you find a way out. I think we're about half way to anywhere, which is why our carjackers chose that spot. But it's still not far to walk. Just go."  
  
"N-no," Josh said.  
  
"Go. Now."  
  
"I --"  
  
"Josh --" But he stopped when Josh stumbled back to Toby, and then went down to his knees, gasping. Toby reached out and caught his arm, looking worried again. "Hey."  
  
"I can't, Toby. I don't think I'll get very far. And then we'll both be lying in the snow in different places. I ... think I need you to keep me going. Or else just let me sit here."  
  
Toby looked at him for a long, silent moment. Then he finally nodded. "Yeah. All right. Help me up. Let's go. Maybe we don't want to be here before the boys find some bullets and come back anyway."  
  
"Oh." Josh looked up toward the top of the ravine, and then shook his head. "Yeah. Let's go."  
  
It wasn't easy. Josh braced his legs and pulled Toby up. Ziegler almost went back down again, but somehow they found their balance. It wasn't easy. Josh was dizzy. The world, already black and white in a world of snow, grayed out around him. Toby caught tight hold around his waist, and said nothing while they stood there for a long, long moment.  
  
"Okay," Josh finally said. "Okay. Let's go."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah. We've already got another inch of snow. I don't think we want to wait while it gets worse."  
  
"Yeah. Worse," Toby said, looking up at the sky. "It could get worse, do you think?"  
  
"Maybe not. But the people who dropped us here -- I wouldn't want to be them," Josh said, shaking his head. They took one step, and then another. It was slow, but they were moving. And having someone to talk to helped him focus. "They were right. You don't want Bartlet pissed at them."  
  
"Bartlet is a pussycat compared to someone else on the staff," Toby said. "They better hope they never meet up with Donna Moss."  
  
  
  
4  
  
It was never good when someone came to wake him in the middle of the night. It was especially bad on a night when the snow was piling up around them, and he had gone to bed feeling trapped and worried. He'd had the feeling disaster was lurking just outside the White House. Now, he was certain it had hit. Charlie looked worried as he stood over the bed. Jed Bartlet began running through all the briefings he'd had earlier today before he even sat up.  
  
"What's happened?"  
  
"We're not certain, sir. We're not certain anything is wrong. But we have a call from the DC chief of police. I talked to him." Charlie stepped back as Bartlet swung his legs over the side of the bed. He didn't wait to be told to go on. "Earlier tonight an officer happened to find Toby Ziegler's car pulled to the side of the rode. There was nothing wrong -- Mr. Ziegler and Mr. Lyman were talking, and they left a few moments later. Said they were heading to a deli nearby and then going home."  
  
Bartlet stood. Toby and Josh. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all -- whatever it was. "Go on," he said, his voice quiet.  
  
"About three hours later, the same officer saw the car again, but it wasn't either of them driving it. He gave pursuit, as best he could on those roads. The man driving plowed into a pole. He got out and ran to another car that had followed them, and they got away. The Officer double checked -- no Toby or Josh in the car, and no signs of violence."  
  
"They called Toby and Josh's homes."  
  
"Yes sir. No answers at all. And they checked the Deli. They had been there, but left early." Charlie retrieved Bartlet's robe and helped him into it. "I didn't want to wake you, but -- well --"  
  
"No. I'm glad you did. They could have stopped somewhere else, and the car was stolen from there."  
  
"I tried the cell phones. No answers."  
  
"Damn. Damn." Bartlet stopped and looked at him. "We need to find out if they went to someone else's house for the night. Another member of the staff. Maybe they couldn't make it all the way home and took refuge there. The weather might be causing a problem with the cell phones, especially if they're in the same place."  
  
"Yes sir. That's what I thought. I just didn't -- the thought of calling them --"  
  
"I know, I know. Is the Chief of Police still on the phone?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"I'll talk to him. You round up the phone numbers, and I'll make the calls."  
  
"You'll scare the hell out of them, sir."  
  
"Well they won't be alone in that, will they?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"Is there anyone else around? What time is it?"  
  
"About 1AM, sir. I think everyone else made it home."  
  
"Okay. Get me the numbers. I'll talk to the police."  
  
Charlie nodded and went back out of the room. Bartlet went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello, this is Jed Bartlet. Is this Chief Spainhour?"  
  
"Ah -- yes sir. I didn't expect to talk to you, sir."  
  
"Toby and Josh are important members of my staff. My people had to inform me. I'm going to call some people where they might have stopped for the night. Can your people check hotels and motels? Is there power out in areas, so that they might not have been able to reach us?"  
  
"Yes sir, there is. I'll get on it and see what we can do."  
  
"Call me back -- " He stopped in mid-order and rephrased it. "Can you call me back in an hour? I'll have talked to everyone on my end by then. If I track them down, I'll call you first."  
  
"Yes sir. I'll call."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Thank you. I'll get right on it."  
  
The line went dead. He sat the phone back down and waited, trying to calm his worry. There was nothing wrong. Just because it was Joshua Lyman didn't mean it had to be something wrong...  
  
It seemed to take Charlie a long time to find a few damn numbers, but he finally showed up, slightly breathless.  
  
"Sorry, sir. I -- went down to the offices, just to make sure there were no messages about them being somewhere else."  
  
"Oh, good idea," he said, thinking his aide was good at these things.  
  
"I found Danny Kincaid, sir. He was sleeping in the pressroom. Got snowed in. So I brought him up. He wondered what I was doing down there. I didn't tell him."  
  
"Bring him in."  
  
"Here are the numbers," Charlie said, handing him a notepad. He went to the door and pulled it open. "Danny?"  
  
Danny came in, looking worried and disheveled.  
  
"Don't sleep in the pressroom," Bartlet said. "If you're snowed in again, come up here," Bartlet said as he picked up the notebook.  
  
"I thought it might look like --"  
  
"It looks like you worked too hard, you got snowed in, and we left you sleeping in the pressroom. Sit down. We might have -- something wrong. If not, this is a no-story. I really don't want to see it written up tomorrow, and make everyone think I have nothing better to do than worry about staffers in the middle of the night."  
  
"If there's nothing to worry about, there's no story," Danny said. He sat in a chair and leaned forward. "But you don't think so, do you?"  
  
"Toby Ziegler's car was stolen tonight. It may be that he never made it home. And -- Josh Lyman was with him."  
  
"Oh damn," Danny said. His face paled a little, and Bartlet found that he liked Danny a little more right then. It wasn't just a good news story to him. He worried about the people. "Who are you going to call?"  
  
"The rest of the staff to see if they made it to any of their houses."  
  
"Even Donna Moss?" he asked.  
  
"Even Donna Moss -- but she's last on the list," Bartlet admitted. "This isn't going to be pleasant."  
  
"No sir."  
  
  
  
  
  
5  
  
"It was a different world," Josh said. "They could give away dancing girls and leaping men."  
  
"I know they could," Toby said. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying it was a stupid set of Christmas presents. How is she supposed to feed all those dancing girls and leaping men?"  
  
"Maybe she sells the five golden rings."  
  
"How much would that be worth on the market?"  
  
"Are we talking Renaissance or Middle Ages?" Josh asked. "Italy or England? The Carolingian Empire? Byzantium?"  
  
Toby said nothing for a few more steps. He had stopped trying to lift his right leg out of the snow, and it slowed them as they moved. His face was pale and damp, but Josh didn't comment on it. They just kept moving. The ravine had curved away from the road, but Josh was certain they had to reach an area of houses again soon. There wasn't that much open area around the city, after all. He'd tried climbing out a couple more times, but Toby finally said they should wait until they reach an area with houses and a hope of refuge.  
  
"Where would partridges and pear trees be most common?" Toby asked.  
  
"Huh." Josh wasn't sure. "There's the milking maids, too, you know. They'd help keep them fed."  
  
"Only if she has cows. Didn't they eat swans?"  
  
"I think so. All right so she has, how many new people to feed?" Josh asked.  
  
"Eight maids, nine ladies, ten lords, eleven pipers and twelve loud and obnoxious drummers."  
  
"Fifty," Josh said. "And to feed them she has two turtle doves, three French hens, four calling bird, six geese --"  
  
"And however many eggs they lay," Toby added.  
  
"Yeah. And the seven swans, if they can catch them since they're out swimming somewhere."  
  
"And the damn partridge. Maybe a few pears. Still not enough to hold that many people for long. That's an entire village. Where's she going to house them?"  
  
"Good question." Josh tripped, but Toby kept hold of him and he stayed to his feet. They stopped for a moment while he caught his breath. He was too cold to really feel pain now. "Toby --"  
  
"We can't be far," Toby said. "Keep moving."  
  
"I --"  
  
"So, what happens if she turns down the gifts?" Toby asked. "I noticed that all the people arrived after the five rings. Does that constitute a breach of promise?"  
  
The wind had picked up. The snow was falling harder.  
  
"Well, if she marries him, then it's all his problem again, isn't it?" Josh said. "So maybe he sends the gifts as a way to prod her into accepting the proposed marriage quicker."  
  
"A nice poem would have been less ostentatious."  
  
  
  
6  
  
The call to Leo had been first, and won President Bartlet a little reprieve. Leo insisted on calling the others, breaking the news, and getting a conference call set up to discuss what to do next. No one had seen them, of course. And the Chief of police hadn't called back.  
  
"What are our options?" Bartlet asked. He looked at the window. Snow and wind pounded against it.  
  
"They could well have taken refuge at any house in a dozen places that are without power tonight, sir," Leo said. His voice was steady, but Bartlet could hear the little worry in the tone. "We can't do a house-to-house search of the city, not tonight anyway."  
  
"True," Bartlet said. He had almost, for one moment, considered calling out the guard. "I've talked to the police again. They're working on finding the car that the man escaped in. That could help."  
  
"True, sir," Sam said. He sounded very subdued. "I'd like to come in to the office."  
  
"The roads are snowed over, Sam," Leo said. "This is being called the worst storm of the last five years. If you go heading out into this weather, we may well be out hunting for you by morning as well."  
  
"I'll hire a snowplow. There has to be someone who can get me there."  
  
"Sam --"  
  
"I can't just sit here," Sam said. His voice had risen, but now he took a deep breath again. Bartlet knew that Sam worked closest with Josh and Toby, and he hadn't considered how this would be for him. "I can't. It's already 2AM. I would have been coming in by six anyway."  
  
"He's right," CJ said. She'd been very quiet. "And this constitutes an emergency sir, not just that we're worried about our friends. If two senior policy advisors to the president are missing --"  
  
She stopped, and her breath caught. Maybe she'd been denying it could be worse than missing. Maybe she just didn't want to think about it.  
  
"Leo?"  
  
"I'll find a way to get us all to the office," Leo said. "It's where we need to be. Call me if you hear anything. I don't want to drag out some poor fools into this weather if they turn up."  
  
"I'll call you. Thank you everyone. It'll be good to have you here."  
  
There were good-byes and clicks. Donna had been too quiet. It was just as well that Leo was bringing them in. She wouldn't have done well, sitting alone in her apartment, waiting for word.  
  
Neither would he.  
  
Danny was still sitting at the chair. He had gotten a notepad and pen from Charlie and was jotting down some notes. When he looked up, he shook his head. "This isn't a story I want to cover, sir. But I can't ignore it, either."  
  
"They're going to come through this all right."  
  
Danny looked at him. Then he nodded. "Yes sir, they are. And that'll make a damn good ending to this report."  
  
"So it will. Charlie? You better wake up some of the kitchen staff and tell them that we have people are coming in. And I better call the First Lady and let her know about this."  
  
"I'll -- go with Charlie," Danny said.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
In a moment he was alone in the room. He stood and walked to the window, staring out at the white and cold night. Snow had blanketed everything, and blew in white sheets across the White House grounds whenever the wind picked up. It looked damn cold out there. And dangerous.  
  
Putting off calling his wife was not going to help make it easier. There was only one thing that could happen now that would help, and he tried not to give up hope. They were resourceful men. He had to remember that. He had to keep it in mind, and not let fear overcome him.  
  
He went back to the chair beside the phone, and sat down. And then he bowed his head and prayed for a moment before he put the call into Chicago.  
  
  
  
  
  
7  
  
"Are those lights?" Josh asked.  
  
He saw Toby lift his head. They'd been silent for a while, and Josh wasn't certain how he'd kept them moving. He wasn't sure that he could keep doing so, not without some hope. In fact, he wasn't sure why they were still walking, or where they were going. Josh wanted to do nothing more than sit down in the snow and -- rest.  
  
He started to go down, and was surprised to hear Toby curse and grab at him.  
  
"No, Josh. Come on."  
  
"I think we can stop now," Josh said. "Those are lights, aren't they? We don't have to go any farther."  
  
He started to sit down again. Toby grabbed his arms, and tried to jerk him back up. It hurt like hell, and he gave a startled cry. His legs went out, and both he and Toby were down in the snow, Josh on his knees, and gasping, trying to ease the burning through his chest.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Toby said. His voice was a whisper. "I didn't mean to --"  
  
"Okay," Josh said. He lifted his head and put a hand on Toby's shoulder. "It's -- all right. I think it might have even helped."  
  
"Those are lights," Toby said. He waved a hand off ahead of them. He looked and sounded frantic. "Not far. We can make it that far."  
  
Josh looked, squinting to try and get the globes of color in focus. He couldn't judge the distance. He couldn't see much of the terrain around them. He wished he still had his watch, so he could at least tell how late it was.  
  
"Josh -- we can make it that far."  
  
"You think so?" he asked.  
  
Somehow Toby got back to his feet all on his own. He held a hand out. "I know we can."  
  
"Yeah," Josh said. It took him two tries, but he got back up. "Yeah, we can make it."  
  
They took a dozen steps in silence.  
  
"If she sells all the birds, could she feed the others on cheaper foods, do you think?" Toby asked. "Vegetables. Breads. Fish."  
  
"We're still not sure about the currency or the economic conditions," Josh answered. "But -- given the general equality of prices over time, it would be a good guess to say that vegetables and breads would be cheaper than bird flesh. Fish is iffy. They may be landlocked, and not even have a good river or lake nearby."  
  
"Not likely," Toby answered. "Every city of any worth was built near a transportation point, usually water."  
  
"But we don't know that's where she lived. It might not be a big city."  
  
"Has to be. She was given the equivalent of a village in people. Someone in this area is rich, and that means --"  
  
"Yeah, some sort of large base from which to draw. Okay. So we can include fish..."  
  
  
  
8  
  
Arranging for the others to come in gave Bartlet something to do. He didn't pretend that they really needed his help as secret service and city personal worked out how to bring his staff back. But he listened in on calls, thanked everyone profusely, and maybe comforted people who were otherwise unhappy about all this work in the middle of the night during a major storm. He hoped so.  
  
"Sir," Charlie said. He was standing by the window. "I can see stars. The storm's clearing."  
  
"Not good. It's going to get damned cold," Bartlet said.  
  
"Yes sir." A phone rang and Charlie grabbed it. A few words and he held the phone down, frowning. "They think they have the carjackers in custody, sir. But they aren't being cooperative. They do seem -- nervous that the President is interested in them."  
  
"As soon as things clear enough, I'll send a couple secret service men over to -- stand by and watch. If that doesn't help, we'll go ourselves."  
  
"Yes sir," Charlie said. He repeated the news and hung up the phone. "That might do the trick. They seem more worried about the feds then the local law."  
  
"They've heard of me. I have a bad reputation," Bartlet said.  
  
"Yes sir," Charlie answered. He almost smiled. Then he looked out the window. "There are cars coming. That will be the staff arriving, sir."  
  
"Have them come up here. There's no use all of us sitting in our separate offices, waiting for word. Be sure to let the kitchen staff know where to send the coffee."  
  
"I will," Charlie said. He stepped out of the room, and left Bartlet alone again. He'd rather not be here, starring out at the increasingly cold night, waiting. Alone.  
  
The others were here. No matter what news they received, at least they would learn it together. He stared out at the night, and the sprinkling of stars. He hoped his friends were safe.  
  
  
  
9  
  
The night was crystal clear and sharp. Each breath felt like ice. But the snow had stopped, and though it was cold, Joshua Lyman actually thought they were going to survive. He could see Christmas lights. He could hear cars.  
  
The last surprised him, given the weather. The city road crews must have come out before the storm was even over. He would have thought they would wait until first light, at least.  
  
"The ravine is coming to a dead end. How the hell can a ravine come to a dead end?" Toby demanded.  
  
Joshua thought the man was hallucinating at first. Then he realized that the darkness ahead of him was not just more night. There was a wall of some sort, and the gully through which they had traversed for so long was narrowing. It annoyed him. It was a wall that he knew they couldn't climb, and the idea of turning around and going back -- no. They couldn't do that, either.  
  
He stopped. For the first time since this entire fiasco began, he felt a wave of despair. He had been shaking for some time. His feet were so cold they ached. His face felt frozen. But he had thought the lights meant -- they were safe.  
  
"Come on," Toby said. He was starting forward again. "I'm not going to let this stop us."  
  
"We can't -- no where left -- can't --"  
  
"Josh --"  
  
"I just --"  
  
Toby caught hold of his arm. He looked angry. "You are not stopping now. You've made me walk through this hell for I don't know how long. We aren't stopping just because there's no way out."  
  
"I can't keep going Toby. I just can't. I'm not up to the work any more. You know it. That's why you don't take me --"  
  
"Josh," Toby said, looking worried again. "That's not true. You know it."  
  
"I thought about it, Toby. I did my work. I got Bartlet to the White House. I wasn't meant to go on."  
  
"You were meant to do everything you have. And to do more. Bartlet's in the White House, but you and I both know he'd be a weak president without the rest of us to bolster him. Now come on. There has to be a way out of here. And those cars are close. All we have to do is make it to one of those roads -- or a house along the way. Come on."  
  
There was no use arguing with Toby. He knew that. But he couldn't make his legs move anymore. His head pounded and it hurt to breathe. He took one step and shook his head again.  
  
"I was wrong, okay?" Toby said. "I was wrong not to take you to the meetings, because even though San handles things well, these things were your work, your dreams and your passions. I won't make the mistake again. Just don't make me regret dragging you out of the office to take you home!"  
  
He hadn't thought about that part. He already had enough trouble with Toby feeling guilty for things that were not his fault.  
  
"Josh."  
  
"All right. All right." He forced his feet forward, grateful for Toby's arm around his waist. He wasn't sure which of them was holding the other up now. "Do I still have to go to the untreated corn meeting in the morning?"  
  
"If I'm going, you're damn right you're going."  
  
It made him laugh. That was better. He didn't trust his seesawing emotions, but he knew to take advantage of this mood. Not far -- they really didn't have far to go now.  
  
  
  
10  
  
CJ was sitting with Donna. He was grateful that she took the young woman in hand. Donna was not likely to fall apart or become hysterical, but it didn't hurt that she had someone to lean on just then.  
  
Leo and Sam were discussing policy with Danny. Now that could be a bit more of a problem. But for tonight -- it wasn't so bad. Bartlet had wandered around the room, listening in, moving on. It was a long night. The clock said barely 3AM. How could a night be so --  
  
The phone rang, silencing everyone. Charlie grabbed it. He said very little for a few minutes. Nodded and made noises -- it wasn't good news, but it wasn't bad, either. By the time Bartlet crossed the room, Charlie was saying, "Yes sir. That is good. Please keep us informed. I will inform the president. Yes sir, he is. Would you like to talk to him? Okay. I'll let him know."  
  
He hung the phone up and nodded to all the faces that looked at him. "The carjackers have confessed to having stolen the car on a deserted road. They feigned an accident and drew Toby and Josh out. They swear that they didn't kill them, just rolled them down in a ravine. Spainhour and the road department already have people clearing the road in that general area, since that was one of the paths we thought they might take home. And Spainhour thinks that if they were in the ravine there, that may have helped. They would have been out of the direct wind."  
  
"How long till they get to the spot?"  
  
"An hour, maybe. It's going to be hard to tell. The road is snowed over, and he's putting people on the side with the trucks, so they can keep watch for signs. They're also going to try to get people down in the ravine to search as soon as they can."  
  
"He really thinks they weren't killed?" Jed asked. He didn't want to, but --  
  
"The two had been involved in a robbery about an hour before the carjacking. They ran out of bullets. And they purposely hadn't killed anyone there, just scared the hell out of them. So it seems unlikely that they'd have killed Toby and Josh."  
  
It was hope. A strange, backward hope -- but Jed Bartlet nodded. The others looked as though they were trying to hold on to such precarious optimism as well. But that was all right.  
  
When he went back to the window he could see Christmas lights twinkling in the cold morning. He watched them for a while, and silently prayed that their luck held tonight.  
  
  
  
11  
  
"I think --" Toby said from somewhere above him.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I think I've got it. Move to your right. Reach up. I cleared the snow off as best I could."  
  
Josh did as Toby told him. Climbing upward had been a laborious, painful act of madness. He didn't think they could really get out, but if Toby was going, he was going with him.  
  
He found the slab of rock or cement and grabbed as tight hold as he could to the surface. Then he started scrambling upward, feet trying to find purchase on the slick, snowy embankment. He'd fallen once already. He didn't want to do it again.  
  
Toby was moving above him again. Snow fell down in his face. He cursed.  
  
"Sorry," Toby said.  
  
He looked up. The moon was bright. He could see Toby working his way upward, right leg hanging limply, but apparently not broken. Toby moved it when he had to.  
  
Josh turned back to his own work. It wasn't easy. He was slower than Toby. Up. Another inch at a time. He didn't think the embankment was that high.  
  
"Hey," Toby said.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm at the top. I can see houses from here."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really. You've got about three more feet. If you want to stay there, I'll try to get help and come back --"  
  
"No. Three more feet? I can make three more feet. I don't want to chance losing my grip and falling again."  
  
"Move to your left."  
  
Toby directed him, step by step, up the side. It was easier when he had Toby's voice to concentrate on. And then he felt Toby catch his arm, though he wisely didn't pull upward. He let Josh find his own footing and make it himself.  
  
He reached the top. It felt like he'd climbed Everest, dragging a Porche up behind him, but he was damn proud that he'd done it.  
  
"Okay," Toby said. They were both lying in the snow. It was cold, but that hardly mattered at this point. "We don't have far to go now. I heard snowplows about a quarter of a mile away. We can make it to one of those, and I can guarantee we'll get a ride somewhere."  
  
"Ride. Good." Josh sat up. "I was afraid we were going to walk the rest of the way."  
  
It wasn't even a difficult walk, past high fenced yards, down a short alley and out into a wide street. This one hadn't been plowed, but they could see the lights and hear the vehicles only another block or so away. So they kept walking, down another street, past dark houses where people slept, warm and safe. Around another corner.  
  
"What the hell?" Toby said, stopping.  
  
It wasn't just snowplows. It was guardsmen, dogs, people with flashlights --  
  
"Why do I get the feeling Bartlet found out we're missing?" Joshua said.  
  
"He wouldn't --" Toby began. Then he stopped. He leaned against Joshua, and muttered something under his breath. "Oh hell."  
  
They were spotted. Men came springing through the snow and surrounded them in a shield of warm bodies. No one asked who they were, or how they'd gotten there. They were bundled off to a car -- a warm car -- and an officer got in and passed them cups of hot coffee. He was on the radio a moment later calling off the search.  
  
"We can get you to the hospital, but we've actually got a clearer path straight back to the White House," the man suddenly said. "Which would you prefer?"  
  
"Hawaii," Josh said. "But, unless Toby says otherwise, I'd say the White House. I get the feeling we should let Bartlet know we're fine."  
  
"White House," Toby agreed. He was rubbing at his knee. "I think it's just sprained anyway."  
  
"White House it is," he said. He grinned. "Quite a night. You've got a hell of a boss to go through all this to make sure you were okay."  
  
"Yeah," Josh said and grinned. "Yeah, you're right."  
  
  
  
12  
  
Charlie held the phone out. He grinned. "I think you'll want to talk to Chief Spainhour, sir."  
  
Jed took the phone, feeling his heart pounding with hope. "Chief Spainhour?"  
  
"They were picked up about five minutes ago, President Bartlet. They'd hiked their way out of the ravine, and stumbled straight into one of the guard units. I've had a radio report that they were both cold and worn, and one may have injured his leg -- not sure which one -- but they walked out, sir. They're on their way to you now."  
  
"To me? Here?" He grinned and saw looks of joy spread all around him. "How soon --"  
  
"Any minute," Spainhour said. "I'm glad it worked out."  
  
"So am I. Thank you. Thank all your people. Go get some rest."  
  
"You too, sir. Good night."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
He put the phone down. Donna was standing. There was worry and hope in her face.  
  
"Charlie, you better call for more cocoa and cookies. Toby and Josh are going to need something to help warm them up when they get here. Oh, and call downstairs and tell them to come right up to the residence and join the party."  
  
"Yes sir." Charlie laughed. He hadn't done that in a while.  
  
  
  
13  
  
Josh had closed his eyes, and most have even fallen asleep during that brief ride from the suburbs back to the White House. He was only aware when someone was helping him out of the car. Secret Service, he realized, as he looked up at the building before them.  
  
It wasn't exactly like a feel of being home, but it was good enough. It was safety and hope, and everything he had worked for. It was where he wanted to be. He wasn't going to resign. He was going to work harder until people believed in him again. He was not going to give up, or pretend that it was everyone else's fault that they worried about him. He hadn't proven himself. It was time to do that. He could start with Toby and Bartlet.  
  
He hadn't expected everyone else to be there. The implications made him blush.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Toby demanded. But he was grateful when Leo caught his arm and led him straight to a chair. Sam had hurried across the room as well, but he stopped and looked uncertain.  
  
"I'm fine." Josh said, but was grateful when Sam helped him to the sofa. "Really."  
  
"He got hit on the back of the head. Someone check that," Toby said. He was carefully lifting his leg to a footstool.  
  
Josh started to protest, but Donna was already checking. He had a bump, but nothing worse. And Charlie arrived with hot chocolate and cookies. And then he went back out and found large, warm quilts and soft pillows. He couldn't have been as comfortable at home. And the company was a lot better.  
  
They were laughing and joking. Bartlet called his wife, and she said that Toby should keep his leg up and put ice on the knee.  
  
"I've had about as much ice as I can stand for the night," Toby shouted back, when Jed told him.   
  
And that made them all laugh again. It was a party. It was the welcome back party they should have had long before this.  
  
"I've got a question," Toby said. He was sipping something a bit stronger than cocoa now. "Do any of you know when and where The Twelve Days of Christmas was written?"  
  
"England, sometime between say 1560 and 1829," Sam said. "The song was an aide to Catholics, whose religion was banned at the time, and who would be executed in a rather grizzly way if they were caught practicing their faith. Each verse has a secret symbol -- my one true love being God of course, and the Partridge in a Pear tree symbolizing Jesus. Two turtle doves are the New and Old Testament, three French hens are Faith Hope and Charity, etc., all the way to twelve drummers drumming, which represented the twelve points of the Apostle's Creed."  
  
Josh looked over at Toby.   
  
"We didn't take one thing into account," Toby said.  
  
"Symbolism?"  
  
"Entertainment. Dancing ladies, leaping lords, pipers, drummers -- she has a hell of an entertainment troupe there. That had to be worth something. If she put them out on the road, they'd probably earn their own keep."  
  
"Yeah, but what about transportation costs?" Josh asked. "And the start up fee. It would be expensive feeding them long enough till they're famous and can earn their own keep."  
  
"Costuming would be costly, too," CJ said.  
  
"True," Toby agreed.  
  
"We're talking an entire moving village here," Leo added. He leaned forward and sipped out of his cup. "Gypsies did it, of course."  
  
"Wagons, horses," Jed Bartlet said. "Those take a lot more maintenance than modern day people think."  
  
"And until recent history, they would have had to contend with bad roads," Danny said. He was sitting on the arm of CJ's chair, and looked pleased with the world. "They'd only be able to travel part of the year at best."  
  
It was an interesting problem. They discussed it for most of the rest of the night...  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
